


The Sun Will Rise and We Will Try Again

by MsPriestly



Series: The Mill Chronicles [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Abortion, Discussion of Abortion, Gen, Truce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPriestly/pseuds/MsPriestly
Summary: Chrissie doesn't hate Aaron or Bex, though she has a right to. They've all been stung by the same poison.





	1. One

It starts off with a sense of pity. It’s hard to hate him really, when she sees the red eyes and the bare hand that had previously sported a ring. She wants to be vindictively happy, to be able to smirk and say I told you so. She’s almost annoyed when it doesn’t work out that way. She’d warned him. He’d destroyed her marriage. Well, they both had. But Robert had manipulated all of them. Even her little sister. There’s really only one common denominator in their pain.

“You’re well entitled to gloat,” Chas says as she pouring a glass of wine, her voice quiet enough that Aaron can’t overhear from the booth he’s sat in with the Barton boy. It’s clear he’s putting on a brave face for the girl – Liv? Is that her name? – but Chrissie recognises that look on his face. That is a “Robert Sugden Broke My Heart,” look. Still, she can’t find it in herself to gloat.

“Their next round is on me,” she says by way of an answer, the words leaving her mouth before she can even question it. She’s aware of Chas and Charity both staring her down, can feel Bex looking at her, gobsmacked from across the room, “It’s not his fault he fell in love with that scum bag. Tell him he had a lucky escape.”

She’s sipping her glass of Pinot when she sees the pint being set in front of Aaron and watches his face go from blank to shock, his eyes snapping to her. She raises her glass and they share a bitter, tired smile.

It almost feels like a truce.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chrissie doesn't often drink red wine. When she does, it has a purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So based on the recent rumours/spoilers/whatever you want to call them. There are mentions of Bex aborting R*bert's baby here. It is not implied. It happened. You are warned. Seriously. Don't read this if you can't deal with it.

Chrissie’s on her second glass of wine when Robert finally storms through the doors, a whirl wind of self-righteous anger and cold, wounded fury. She turns her head to look at him as he zero’s in on her, face twisting from anger into something that he hopes will make her pity him.

Fat chance.

“It was my baby as much as hers. My decision as well,” Robert says as he stands over her, voice never rising from the poisonous whisper that he’s set. She remembers it. It’s so obviously his wounded pride voice and it makes her quiver inside to know he’d used it on her, to manipulate her.

“Rebecca’s body, her choice,” Chrissie says, the muscle in her jaw jumping as she gets to her feet. Even in her heels he towers over her, but she’s not intimated. Not when he’s talking about her baby sister like this. “She made her decision, I just drove her to the clinic.” And held her hand. She’d rocked her little sister as she’d laid on the bed and bled and bled and cried and cried. Still, her expression didn’t flicker.

Show no weakness.

The sneer is next. The wounded act is doing nothing, and he knows it, “Drove her? Yeah right, probably convinced her to do it. Bitter, old cow, past having any kids of your own to make up for your first mistake,” Show no weakness, no weakness. “Do you ever get tired of being a cold, hard bitch?”

_Cold. Like Bex’s skin had been when she’d finally fallen asleep after they’d gotten home. Hard like the look in her sisters eyes as she’d rolled onto her side, tears totally spent._

“Actually I find more joy in it with every passing day.” There’s something painfully wonderful in watching a man stand in her path, covered in red wine with his pale shirt becoming increasingly darker. She has to admit it is part of the reason she ordered a red tonight. It may not sit well on her stomach, but it sat beautifully on Robert Sugden’s head.

“Oh no, Chrissie, you’ve had a spill,” She hears from behind her, and she doesn’t have to turn to know that it’s Chas. It’s more than a little pleasant that she can hear the smile in the landlady’s voice without even having to turn and look at her, “I’ll get you another one love. And you. Out. You’re barred.”

“Barred? You can’t do that!”

“I think you’ll find I just did.”

“She-”

“Robert, just go,” it’s the tired, resigned voice that comes from behind the bar that finally forces Chrissie’s eyes from Robert. A year ago, hell, a few months ago seeing Aaron look so dishevelled would have given her some glee (It still does, a little. She’s human and she can hold a grudge), but now it’s just achingly familiar. Robert’s still gawping like a fish when Diane gently pulls him out of the pub. Chrissie retakes her seat at the end of the bar as the chatter in the pub starts up again. When you live in Emmerdale village, a tiff like that isn’t even gossip anymore.

“Thank you,” she says primly, looking up as a glass is set down in front of her and expecting to see Chas smirking. What she’s not expecting is Aaron, blue eyed and looking _so young_. Young and cowed as he might look, her sympathy can only spread so far. She refuses to be the one who talks first here. At first Chrissie wonders if he’ll just step away, perhaps nod at her. Dingles do like to nod their approval after all.

“You were right.”

“Well, there’s three of my favourite words.”

“I meant… About ‘im. You… You deserve better than that. Better than what I did to you,” Aaron mutters. It’s like every word is an effort and it would be easy to sneer, to flick her hair and tell him it was obvious she was right. But there’s a strange bond between them now that he’s stepped on both of their throats in his designer shoes.

“So do you,” she replies, looking down into her glass, “He’ll say some very tempting things to try and get you back. He’s good at that; at flattering and making himself seem like the only option. Don’t fall for it,” she warns him and in response she gets the Dingle Nod of Approval. It’s even accompanied by a small smile as he nervously drags his sleeves over his knuckles.

“I’ll just go before this gets awkward.”

“Probably a good idea.”


End file.
